Hardys at War
by sparkles321
Summary: It's WW2. Joe Hardy is running spy missions for the Army, and Frank's a medic. Nancy's a Red Cross volunteer."Mother, Dad! You know I turned 17 a week ago, right? Well, the Army's taking fellows that age, so what would you think about me enlisting?" The only sound was Laura's fork falling from her hand and clattering on the kitchen tile. Includes Chet, Tony, Biff,& Phil!
1. Chapter 1

-January of 1942-

Fenton Hardy,a tall, handsome man with slightly graying hair and an infamous knack for solving unusual cases with his equally talented sons, sniffed the air appreciatively. "Mm. Dessert smells wonderful, Laura." His wife smiled. "Thank you! It's a special cake that doesn't have any sugar or butter, on account of all the new rationing. Who would've thought this war would affect the way Gertrude and I cook?"

Across the table, Frank Hardy's eyes met his brother Joe's. He gave a little nod, and Joe winked back, obviously meaning 'let me handle this.' Frank grimaced. Did he really want Joe to handle this? Joe took a breath. A little too brightly, he began. "Mother, Dad! You know I turned 17 a week ago, right? Well, the Army's taking fellows that age, so what would you think about me enlisting? See, most people who are seventeen or eighteen don't get to do much, just patrol bases here in the States. But on account of ourdetecting, I could be on missions to stop those Nazi's in no time!"

The table was completely silent, then Laura's fork fell from her hand to the floor, clattering. Joe hastily picked it up. "I'll, uh, get you a clean one." He made a quick retreat. Fenton turned to Frank. He suddenly looked very old."Frank," he said slowly, "Do you want to do this?" "Want to? Oh, yes, Dad. Joe and I already talked to the man at the recruitment office. He said you and mom just have to sign some papers, and we can be on our way! As much as I love detecting, I'm also awfully interested in the medical field. Just think- I could train to be a medic!" Joe returned, and Aunt Gertrude spoke then. "I suppose you boys believe this war will be some grand adventure. So you'll go gallivanting off, and-"

"Gertrude," Fenton interrupted gently. "I don't think that is needed." She bristled angrily but fell silent. "So, Dad, can we enlist? Biff Cooper is gonna meet us at the office tomorrow and we'll all enlist together that is, if you say we can." Joe waited expectantly. His father sighed tiredly. He'd known this day would come, but, oh how he'd dreaded it. Of course he was proud that his sons wanted to serve their country. Yet one thought played in his mind.

_Those boys killed last month at Pearl Harbor - they were Frank and Joe's age._

He'd been a boy once too though, and he knew how badly his sons wanted to go. "Joe, Frank. I will allow you to go, but only if your mother agrees." Frank and Joe turned pleading eyes to Laura Hardy. She swallowed. "Yes. But,oh-" Joe leapt up. "Let's telephone Biff!" The boys left the room, and Fenton, wishing to be alone headed to his study. Aunt Gertrude and Laura were the last ones left at the table. Gertrude threw her hand up in despair. "Laura, I will be in the kitchen if you need me. Dishes must be washed, even if the entire world has gone crazy!" Laura, left at the table, buried her face in her hands.

Oh, she knew the detective work the boys did now was dangerous. But a war? They were still in high school, after all.

**_Should I continue this? What do you think about it? Like or hate? Any characters you want to see?_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Guest: Thanks for noticing that! I was confused on the ages, too, but a quick google search said they ****_did _****allow some 17 year olds , ****_if_**** they were especially talented in certain areas (like flying)and ****_if_**** their parents signed a sort of 'permission slip'.**

Frank and Joe met Biff in line the next morning. Half of the line was made up of excited teenage boys, all talking loudly. Another half, slightly older, stood quietly, perhaps remembering earlier wars. The boy standing in front of Frank approached the window. "Name's Eddie Wilson, sir." The recruiting officer looked suspicious.

"Age?"

"I'm 17."

The man shook his head. "Go home to your mama, boy!" The boy left dejectedly. To Frank, the man added, "He comes here every Tuesday,and tries to bribe me. I know for a fact he's fifteen. Ah, well. Boys will be boys,I suppose. What can I help you with?"

"I'm Frank Hardy, and want to enlist, sir. I'm an amateur detective right now, but I'm very interested in medicines and treatment. I'd like to be a medic, or-"

"Fenton Hardy's your dad?"

"Yes, sir."

"Hmm. Then you're a pretty good detective, eh?" "Pretty good," Frank said modestly. My brother Joe is, too." He gestured to Joe behind him. Joe leaned forward. "If you need a detective, we're your men!" The man guffawed and made a note on the paper. "Uh huh. How old are you?"

"Eighteen. Here's the paperwork." The man nodded, sending Frank to the back for further instructions.

Joe and Biff soon followed. They were all shocked to see Chet Morton in the back, looking glum. "I didn't pass the physical," he said morosely. "Something about my back." Frank and Joe exchanged glances. They had a feeling that their rotund friend hadn't passed because of his back, but because of his weight. Still, they felt bad for him. "I'm gonna keep trying,though," Chet declared. "Did you all make it?" Biff, Joe and Frank nodded.

"We're supposed to head to the base they're setting up in Bayport tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. We get further instructions and training there. They decide when we're ready to ship out."

-8 weeks later-

Frank Hardy stared at the head officer, listening intently. "Sutres are commonly used for-" The training base secretary stuck her head out the office window.

"Call for Frank Hardy!" Frank left the training session on medical equipment and made his way to the tiny office. Bayport's training base was just getting set up, but there were already an enormous group of hopefuls waiting to be sent to the front. He took the phone handed to him. "Hello?"

"Frank? I made it!The officer said he was so tired of seeing me every morning I might as well-"

"Who is this?"

"It's me, Chet! I'm officially in the Army, just like you and Biff!"

"That's great, Chet. I'd better get back to training, but stop by and tell Joe. He's probably wandering around the base." Frank hung up then, smiling. That was Chet for you. Frank should have known he'd manage to get in, one way or another. Well, he'd better get back to training. After completing three weeks of basic training- how to handle a rifle, basic combat routines- medic hopefuls attended a month-long training session before being shipped out.

"Hardy, Jones, Lyman, Smith, report to headquarters." Frank followed the other men to the imposing building, and waited is turn to recieve orders. Excitment surged through him. What would they say?

"Hardy? You're being shipped out next week. You'll take the train to New York Harbor, where you'll recieve orders and be shipped out."

"Where am I going to be shipped to, sir?"

"You'll know when you get there," the officer said. "In wartime, we keep information secret." Frank thanked the officer and left.

"Joe! I'm being shipped out, _next week!" _

"You have all the luck. We're still practicing shooting those darn targets."

"I know." Frank laughed, but then his face changed. "Joe! We get two-day leave this weekend. How am I going to tell Mother and Aunty?" Joe shrugged and gave Frank a most un-helpful evil grin.

That weekend, both Hardys went home for supper. They were on break until Monday, and they fully intended to sample as much of Aunt Gertrude's cooking as possible- even if that meant they had to listen to her tirades on the war, the President -"A 'Fireside Chat' ? How will that help us win the war?"- and her firm declarations that if the boys were hurt, they could fully blame their own foolishness. Nevertheless, it was obvious she was glad to have them back, for both she and Laura fussed over them constantly. Fenton was busy with war work as well. He had been contacted by the U.S. goverment and asked to help with a top-secret project- one he couldn't even tell the boys about. "Aunty, these mashed potatoes are delicious, even without butter. How'd you do it?"

"Frank, it is "**How did" **, not "How'd. I'd expect you to know better. In regards to the potatoes - I never give away my secrets." Laura Hardy looked suspiciously at her oldest son. "Frank, you've been flattering us all day. Is their something you want to tell us?" Joe chuckled into his water glass, and smirked at Frank when the adults weren't looking. Frank glared at him. If looks could kill... Oh, well. He'd better just tell them and get it over with.

"Ah...yes. I have great news! I'm being shipped out from New York Harbor in three days. They can't tell me where I'm going."

**What is your opinion on this chapter? Who do you want to see? Nancy Drew, or one of the boy's friends? Should someone get killed off? If so, who? (I'm not killing off Frank or Joe. How could I live with myself? :) **

**PLEASE REVIEW! It means a lot to me. **

**Have a great day!**


	3. Chapter 3

**_Caranath- Thank you so much for taking the time to point out the mistakes & for giving advice on how to fix them._**

**_Hibernia12: Thanks AGAIN for your loyal reviewing!_**

**_To the rest of you awesome Guys(& gals!): I'm trying to be as historically correct as I can on here, but I really don't know as much as I could on the 1940s. So I checked out several books on WW2, medics, and, of course, reread all the Hardy Boy series! So... if you see any flaws feel free to give constructive criticism! Sorry it's taken me forever to get back to this story, I've been really busy and on several trips. But that's no excuse. I resolve to do better. Well, enough with the boring author__ notes..._**

**_UPDATES_**

**_* Frank is taking the train to New York Harbor, where he will board a ship to be shipped out. This is mentioned in the first paragraph, but I see how it can be a lil'confusing, so..._**

**_*The Army DID take people 17 if their parents signed a special form. Google it! After all, this is the 1940s._**

**_*About the paragraphs: I didn't get the whole paragraph thing, so I tried to fix it, I'm so sorry it looks so bad. I'm writing this on a Kindle, so it's hard to get the words lined up right. If someone would comment with where I should start the second paragraph,, I'd be super appreciative. _**

**_Thanks to all who reviewed._**

"The cookies, did you remember them?" Gertrude Hardy was nearly frantic. Frank nodded and held up the tin. "Yes, Auntie." Several days had passed,and he was about to board a train which would bring him to New York Harbor, where he would join others who were being shipped out on an enormous ship."And they give us _no_ word of where you're going!", Gertrude huffed. "That's how the army works, Gertrude. In wartime we have to keep just about everything confidential," Fenton put in in an effort to console her. This was not the first time they'd had this conversation. Gertrude nodded, and her brave front dissolved slowly. "I-I'm just going to miss you so much!", she sniffled in an un-Getrtrude-like way. Laura wordlessly handed her a hankerchief. Laura was determined to keep up a brave front-after all, if Frank was going to who-knows-where to care for people in the thick of battle, couldn't she give him a composed send off? Impulsively, she reached up and gave Frank another hug.

She whispered "We'll miss you, Frank. Take care of yourself-and you'd better write..." She suddenly found it hard to speak, and , choking back tears, managed an "I love you." There was a whistle in the distance, and Joe leaned forward. "Train's coming." Fenton glancing around the crowded train platform, watched others hug their soldiers. Sons, brothers, husbands, fathers, and uncles... He turned to his son and embraced him. "Frank- we're very proud of you. Be careful over there-" Frank grinned. "Don't worry, Dad."

Joe, not wishing for any uncomfortable displays of emotion, opted for a handshake. But before he turned away, he pressed a thin envelope in Frank's hand. "Here-don't read this 'til you're on the train. And-hey- don't forget I'll be over there soon, too!" The train was here now, with screeching brakes and a deafening rumble. Frank boarded with the other men bound for the front. He waved until his family was only a small speck in the background. Then he faced forward, barely unable to contain a little burst of excitement. He was on his way!

"Hey, you wanna play cards?" Frank turned and faced a freckle-face soldier about his age. "Sure. Name's Frank, " he said, extending his hand. The boy shook it. "I'm Thomas, Thomas Neely." Noticing the red cross on Frank's uniform, he asked, "You a medic?" "Yes. I'm an amateur detective, but I'm interested in medicines and treatment,too." "You're lucky," Thomas told him with a friendly grin. "You get to work with them," with a sweeping gesture he indicated a group of women in Army Nurse uniforms. Frank gave a little shrug.

"My brother Joe's a lot better at talking to girls than I am." "Ah, I can help you fix that. Anyway, let's play." He began dealing the cards. Before long Frank was talking to the other men and boys and passing around the bulging tin of cookies. The hours passed quickly, and it was soon almost dark. In the morning they would arrive in New York. As everyone settled down to sleep, he suddenly remembered Joe's letter. Digging it out of his pack, he unfolded it and held it to the window in an attempt to see by the moonlight. It read:

_Dear Frank,_

_Miss me yet? Haha. Well. I just wanted to tell you something. I think you're awfully brave to go over there and take care of the wounded. When I arrive in a few weeks, I'll have a gun in my hand and I can defend myself. But you have just your medical supplies and a bunch of hurt people. So... I think you're braver than me, and Chet, and Biff, and all the rest of us guys who think we're out to have fun and shoot a bunch of Nazis. Because , if I know you, you're going to make a difference._

_-Joe_

Frank was more than a little surprised by Joe's letter, but he was also touched. It wasn't like Joe to do something thoughtful like this. His first thought was: _Maybe he's growing up. _He answered himself immediately, though;_ Nah. :)_

* * *

**_Well, what do you think? Paragraphs still terrible? Darn Kindle. :( But, hey- Next chapter = NANCY! _**


	4. Chapter 4

**_A/N: The Queen Mary was A REAL ship, known to the Nazis as 'the gray ghost' because it was so elusive. It carried thousands to battle. Cool, huh? Well, Nancy's in this chapter! Who's excited? I am! As usual, the updates are:_**

**_UPDATES_**

**_* Frank is taking the train to New York Harbor, where he will board a ship to be shipped out. This was mentioned before, but I see how it could be confusing, so..._**

**_*The Army DID take people 17 if their parents signed a special form. After all, this is the 1940s._**

**_*I think I managed to fix the paragraph thing sorta/kinda/maybe._**

"Hardy?"

Frank turned quickly at the sound of the authoritative voice. Hew was glad to tell at least someone knew him-and where he was supposed to go! New York Harbor was a mass of olive-green uniforms and grey Red Cross dresses, and everyone seemed lost. Thomas and his other friends he'd made on the train had been ordered to stations and cabins by tough-looking sergeants, and he was left with no idea where to go. The man who'd called his name looked a little older than Fenton Hardy, with streaks of grey in his fading brown crew cut. He wore a medic uniform like Frank's, but the nameplate on his uniform read _Dr. McIntire_.

"Yes, sir?"

The man extended his hand, and Frank shook it. "Dr. Jefferson McIntire. Everyone calls me Doc."

"Frank Hardy, sir."

Doc gave a curt nod and made a note on his clipoard. "I'm in charge of showing the medical personnel for our company were they will be berthing. May I see your berthing card?" Frank handed him the slip of yellow paper that contained his name, rank, serial number, and berthing orders. Doc chuckled suddenly, and Frank looked up quickly.

"Ah, never mind. Follow me." He led Frank through long hallways and passed rooms filled with bunks. "Cabins held two, back when this was an ocean liner. Now it's a warship, and we've got eighteen men in each cabin, and just about every where else on this ship" He stopped in front of a room marked "Gymnasium". It, too was filled with bunks, but what struck Frank was an emptied pool filled with bunks.

"That's were you'll be," Doc said, indicating the a bunk with a sweep of his hand. It really was quite strange. There was a slide and a diving board, but no water, just three rows of bunks. Now Frank knew why Doc had laughed.

"Well, sonny, what do you think of your accommodations?"

Frank smiled. "I think we'll get along swimmingly."

Doc grinned and pointed to another door.  
"More training's in there. All medics and nurses are supposed to meet there in half an hour." He left then.

Frank decided to use his few minutes of free time to explore the ship. He was staring over the railing at New York, reflecting that he'd be on his way in a few hours, when he felt someone bump into him.

"Oh, I'm very sorry," a girl's voice cried. He turned around and saw a smiling, titian-haired girl about his age. She was wearing an Red Cross uniform.

Shyly, he told her, "It's alright. Isn't the view spectacular?" He silently berated himself. _That sounded really dumb, didn't it?!_

"Yes, it is! I'm Nancy Drew, by the way. What's your name?"

"Frank Hardy. So, are you a nurse?"

She laughed. "No, just a Red Cross volunteer who has went through training. My real love is detecting, but the Army doesn't take women, and the Red Cross didn't need a detective, so... what about you? You want to be a doctor?"

"I'm actually an amateur detective as well, but I'm interested in medicines a from a forensic science point of view. I've always enjoyed learning about emergency medical attention - it comes in handy as a detective!"

She smiled and nodded, but the loudspeaker crackleld just then,with an announcement for all medical personnel to report for training. As they headed towards the room Doc had shown him earlier, Frank couldn't help thinking, _I did pretty well!_ If only Joe, who was constantly nagging him to talk to girls, could see him now!

**So, what do you think? Nancy isn't sounding quite the way I want her to... yet. This chapter was sorta boring, by I'm trying to be historically accurate here... :). Any tips or comments? Anything you absolutely love or hate? Tony Prito; I really want to put him in the story, but as an Italian, he might be reluctant to fight against Italy... what do you guys think? I want to add all the gang eventually.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you for all the awesome reviews, ideas, and tips! I was inspired to update extra-quickly! My stories have never had more than 30 reviews,so...if y'all would help me beat that, I'd be super happy! :)This next chapter is centered on Joe. BTW, Amy Pack was a REAL British spy, and everything she does in this chapter is absolutely true. I read a biography on her, and I couldn't find the identity of the male spy with her. So, of course, I decided it would be Joe Hardy. :) I changed the dates around and took a few literary liberties, and I'm pretty happy with the way it turned out...**

"A word with you, Joseph?"

"Oh,uh,yes,Sir." Joe didn't know what was more unnerving- that the head of the espionage training called everyone by their full first names, or that he couldn't tell anyone he was even _in _espionage training. He was just Joe Hardy, Private First Class. No one knew he'd already finished all his Army training quickly and was learning to be a spy - not even Biff and Chet. He somehow suspected Dad knew, though. Oh, well. Even the Army couldn't keep secrets from Fenton Hardy. The funny thing about spy training was that it was most definitely not like the movies. It was supposedly a glamorous affair, filled with gorgeous blondes who were secretly spies, and brave young men who fell head over heels in love...no, unfortunately that was not the case._Most unfortunately,_ Joe couldn't help thinking. He turned and entered the espionage office. The director swiveled in his chair.

"You speak French?"

Joe blinked. This was not exactly the question he'd had in mind when he envisioned being assigned his first mission. But then a vision of those French girls in the movies flashed through his mind, and he smiled."Yes, sir, a little. Mother made me take it in high school."(**Have you ever noticed that the Hardys can speak a little bit of nearly every language?)**

"Excellent." The director worked his fingers into a steeple."Joseph, you have done exceptionally well in all aspects of training, and, I understand, you have had a good deal of experience as a detective. Your father is also quite famous among individuals who are in this sort of business." He paused, and stared hard at Joe, who suddenly felt very aware of the phrase 'sizing one up.' "For these reasons, and the fact you have excelled in nearly every training session -even making Private First Class- we've chosen you for this mission."

Joe felt a little surge of excitement and adrenaline rush through him. "Thank you, sir," he stammered. "This is a huge honor."

The director nodded and smiled thinly."Yes." He handed Joe a manila envelope."You leave on the next train to Washington D.C."

Joe felt a little dizzy, like someone who has been rushed from the top of one mountain to the other with no time to take a breath."But, sir, why does it matter if I speak French, if I'm just going to Washington?"

In reply, the man queried,"You've heard of the Vichy French?"

"Yes, sir. They're the only French people who sided with the Axis powers. All other French are with America and its allies."

"Exactly. For some reason, they still maintain an embassy in D.C. You will be working with an older British spy to sneak inside, find their cipher code, and leave in a matter of minutes. French could come on handy. Everything else you need to know is in the envelope." He held out his hand, and Joe shook it. "Good luck, Joseph."

And with that, Joe Hardy became a spy.

* * *

As he sat on the train reading the packet of information, he looked around uneasily. Everything had happened so quickly! The information he'd been given was scarce; all he knew was, that, if anyone asked, he was on leave and visiting his aunt in D.C. In reality, he was meeting a woman named Ms Pack, who would brief him on details. The Vichy French kept a cipher code locked tightly in a safe on the second floor of the embassy, and it was patrolled by an armed guard. He settled back in his seat and smiled grimly. This was going to be fun.

* * *

"Mr. Hardy?" The woman, who spoke quietly with a slight British accent , appeared a few years younger than his mother, perhaps in her late thirties. "I am Ms Pack."

Joe gave a tiny nod as he casually flashed his I.D so as not to attract attention. They were standing in a crowded train station, after all.

The woman blinked. "You are very young,"she muttered in an undertone. Louder, for the benefit of the disembarking passengers, she exclaimed,"My nephew! Come, we will head home! I have made an excellent supper, for a growing boy like you!" She ushered him quickly to a waiting car."Now we can talk freely."

Joe nodded in acknowledgement, still a little amazed at the suddenness of it all.

Ms Pack continued,"When we arrive at the embassy, it will be dark. I will let you in through a window, then I will wait. While you are there, you will find and crack open the safe. Then you will bring the code books to me to be photographed and replaced before dawn. Understand?"

"Yes ma'am."Joe smirked a little, and she slapped his arm playfully.

"I am not so old that you must say 'ma'am' when you address me, Joe. Oh, do you wish to be called Joe or Joseph?"

"Joe," he said instantly, remembering the director's stern 'Joseph?'.

She smiled, but her face quickly turned serious. "You will have to be able to think on your feet, Joe. This isn't training. If something goes wrong, it could cost you everything." She didn't elaborate, but Joe had a pretty good idea of what she meant by 'everything'. He listened as she explained more details.

At exactly ten o'clock that night, Joe found himself being directed down a narrow hallway. Ms Pack stood just inside the window at the end of the hall, silhouetted in the dim light from the streetlights below. From a map he'd been shown, the safe was in this room. He entered, using the lock pick to open the door easily. The safe was a good deal trickier. He listened to the click-clicking with a stethoscope and decided a bigger lock pick was in order. Opening his pack and choosing one, he suddenly froze when he heard noises in the hall.

**Evil Cliffie! :) Review to find out what happens next! :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**You have all been SO** **SWEET in your reviews! I wish I could meet all of you guys in person and give you a hug! **

**Hibernia12-thanks for your awesome loyalty to this story!**

**catlover1033-thanks for always leaving nice,long reviews! I love when someone takes the time to do that!**

**Foxy121-Thanks for the sweet and encouraging reviews!**

**Aww, FreshKicks, your review was so positive and friendly! Thank you!**

**To all of you- thanks for taking the time to review and support my little 'ol story. I'm glad you like it. Amy Pack is so cool, isn't she? Google her! I absolutely love how calm she is in the face of danger. Please help me get more than 30 reviews! Now for the story...**

Joe's hand shot to his pocket, groping wildly for his gun. He quickly realized the stupidity of that. In training he had learned that the worst thing to do is appear armed and dangerous if you're caught by surprise. If possible, fabricate a story that would convince the people to leave you alone...Amy rushed in.

"Joe! The security guards are heading this way!"

He shoved his pack of tools under a table and hissed to Amy,"Put your arms around me!"

"Joe..."

"Just do it! I have a plan!" The guards' footsteps were coming closer.

Amy reluctantly threw her arms around Joe's neck just as the guards entered. Joe shot a wink at Amy and whirled to face them.

"What's the big idea? Can't you see my girlfriend and I are having a little moment here?" He spoke indignantly, with the best French accent he could.

Amy played her part well, maybe a little _t__oo_ well. She made a little shooing motion with her hand to the two guards and turned back to Joe. "Where were we?" She placed her hand on his face and he couldn't help blushing, a little.

The older guard looked confused. "You snuck in to, ah, do this?"

"My girlfriend is a typist for the embassy. She said she knew of a good place where we could be ... ALONE," Joe said pointedly.

The guards stammered something and left quickly, obviously embarrassed. Joe waited until they heard receding footsteps before swinging the lock pick into the safe' s dial. Within five minutes he had it open. Deftly, Amy pulled out a thick book from one of the shelves.

"The fools,"she murmured, flipping pages hastily. "Their code is so easy to find, and everyone knows they keep it here." She quickly pulled a clunky black camera out of her satchel and photographed the pages, talking as she worked swiftly. "A cipher code is everything the opposing side wants. If you can find someone's code, you will know everything."

Joe kept a wary eye out for the guards as he thought about the safe. It had been fairly simple to open it, but the hard part would be making it look like it had not been touched.

"There!"Amy wiped her hands on her skirt. "Can you make the safe appear untouched?"

"I can try." Joe surveyed the thin crack he had created when he inserted the lock pick. It wasn't too noticeable from a distance, but if someone wanted to open the safe, it would be instantly obvious it had been tampered with. "Paint," he muttered. "I could paint over it. Amy, how am I going to get paint?"

She shrugged and traded places with him so she could keep watch. Joe chewed his lip, thinking. He looked at a nearby desk, and seeing a marker, he snatched it up. "It's the right color, at least." He carefully ran the tip of the marker along the crack."Amy, what do you think?"

She gazed at it criticality."It's the best we could do for now, and it's not as obvious it was earlier. Good thinking, Joe."

"Thanks."

Amy led the way through the maze of halls, back to the window they'd entered from. She knew the entire layout of the embassy, thanks to carefull planning on her part. They waited for the guard patrolling the grounds to pass by below, then they left and entered the same car they'd ridden in earlier. "What now?" Joe queried.

"We head to our separate headquarters. You report to the Yank espionage director, I to the British government. We're taking you to the train station now."

They were both silent for a few minutes, until Amy asked, "Joe? This was your first mission?"

She said it like a statement, but he answered anyway, "Yes." Everything felt strange and far away, like a dream.

Amy turned so she could see his face. "You did very well, Joe. I wish you the best of luck in your career." The car pulled into the station parking lot, where a train was waiting.

"Joe."

"Yes?"

"The Spanish have an expression, 'Vaya con Dios'. It means 'go with God'. Vaya con Dios, Joe."

"Thank you, Amy. Goodbye. Perhaps we will meet again." He disembarked, giving a little wave as he slid his pack onto his shoulder. As he boarded the train, he saw her black car slowly pulling out of the parking lot.

**Well? What do ya think? Where will Joe head next, and will it be as a soldier or as a spy? What of Frank and Nancy? What about Biff and Chet? REVIEW, please! I still need to know what to do with Tony!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello, my lovelies! I've been thinking, you need a name. Since my username is sparkles321, what do you think of me calling you my sparklers? Kind of a play on words, and sparklers are so cool.(you know,those little fireworks)Let me know what you think! This chapter is centered on Frank, during the Allied invasion of Italy. It's now early 1943, since it took them about a year to go through training. Hardy Gal - I don't know who Steve Rogers is, sorry! I like your other ideas, though! I'm intrigued- what do you mean about Joe being blonde and blue eyed like the Nazis wanted? Tell me more!**

***this next chapter is a little bit T. This is a war, after all. Nothing too bad, but, towards the end, it gets a little bloody.***

Frank stirred in his sleep and sat up quickly, hitting his head on the bunk above him. Someone was shaking him. It was Doc, and he looked serious. He beckoned for Frank to follow him quietly, not wishing to wake the other men. Curious, Frank followed Doc to one of the cabins reserved for training lectures. The three other medics from their company, Company B, were seated at a table. Frank surveyed their faces swiftly. Matthew Smith, who was a little older than Frank, looked worried, but he smiled at Frank and waved as he entered. Dr. Henning, Doc's good friend who had served with him in the Great War, looked oddly excited. And Charles Grand ,in his mid-twenties, looked nervous. A few commanding officers were also seated, and Frank wondered why they were here. He wasn't in trouble, was he?!

Doc, the unofficial leader of the medical personnel for Company B, cleared his throat and approached the front of the room. "Our ship will dock off the coast of Italy in a few days," he began. "Their are many companies on board. Our company and two other American companies will join three British companies and one Canadian company. They've been selected for an invasion of Sicily. You are all aware of the choice President Roosevelt gave the Italian people?"

They nodded, and Matthew answered "They could choose to side with Hitler and Mussolini, and face an inevitable death, or side with the Allies, and-" Doc cut him off.

"Exactly. If we succeed, we overthrow Mussolini. That's our main objective."

One of the officers spoke now."The troops have been preparing for something like this for quite some time,but we can't tell them what. Everything is classified. All you will need to know and do is follow your company wherever they go and render aid." He paused, and added,"Prepare medical supplies, and lots of them. This is going to be a vital battle, but it will have an enormous cost." He left then, flanked by the other officers.

Doc spoke again, his voice a little softer. "We will be preparing medicines, sharpening needles, and rolling bandages. I've arranged for everything to be brought in here, where we will work on it."

Twenty-four hours later, Frank was thoroughly convinced he never wanted to see another medical instrument. He was exhausted and they still had to prepare and pack for a grueling hike with their company. Matthew dropped to the floor tiredly. "Frank, I think I'm gonna see bandages in my sleep!"

Thomas arrived just then with a plate of rolls. "I got stuck on K.P., and we had some leftovers. Thought you might be hungry."

The group swarmed around him, shouting their thanks as they grabbed a roll and headed off to their next tasks.

* * *

"There is one thing you must always remember."

It was now exactly twelve hours until the ship docked, and Doc was going over last minute rules.

"You must train yourself to listen. There is screaming and explosions and shots and cannon fire, but you must listen for just one word - "Medic." As soon as you are called, assess the situation as quickly as possible. Is it a 'happy' wound, such as a slight bullet graze or a first degree burn? Then treat the wound, have them sit for a little while, and send them back out. If not, get the seriously injured to the infirmary tent, where we will treat them and place them back on the ship." Doc paused and added, "You're all going to do fine. Whatever happens, we must face it as it comes. Now get some rest."

Frank headed to his bunk, but he couldn't help wondering if Nancy, the pretty Red Cross volunteer, would be with his company.

* * *

As spoon as their feet splashed upon the rocky shore, Frank knew their grueling day had begun. It was just before dawn, and the moon cast a dim glow, making twisted strands of barbed wire appear eerily beautiful. The barbed wire was to make it difficult to cross the beach, and it served another, unnerving, purpose. Whoever had put the barbed wire up had known they were coming. The other men in his company were silent, save for a few making small talk among themselves. Frank marched between Matthew and Thomas, and they spoke of home and jobs and girls -anything and everything but this battle.

Soon they had crossed the beach and were now marching through a little town, dark and deserted. Boards were haphazardly nailed to windows, and it gave the impression that the inhabitants had left in a hurry. They prodded on. By the time they reached the other two divisions, it was noon. They were setting up a camp in a large meadow. "Hardy, Smith, set up the infirmary tent, and be quick," Doc ordered. Matthew and Frank where arranging medicine bottles and needles on the makeshift shelves when they heard it. A shot. Neither boy could honestly say who fired first. All they knew was that it was total, utter, chaos.

Italian and German troops surged up into the field,screeching and yelling, firing wildly. The Allies were defending their ground bravely, but Frank couldn't stand around gaping. He had a job to do. "Medic!" He heard it somewhere to his right. Before he knew it, he was running, running into the smoke and fighting men. A grenade exploded somewhere behind him, sending dirt raining down, but he ignored the dirt and, scrambling up again, found the man who'd called. "Medic?"

"Yes, sir." Blood was spreading on the man's arm, rusty red against his olive grey uniform. Ripping the sleeve off, Frank inspected the wound critically. The bullet had torn through the flesh and went out again, narrowly missing any bone. He cleaned it quickly, then wrapping a bandage around it tightly to stop bleeding or infection, assessed the man. The wound was not life threatening, but it might have stunned the soldier slightly, and his arm was most certainly sore. "Let me help you to the infirmary!" He had to scream to be heard over the shooting.

After getting the man to a cot and telling him to rest for a day, Frank went back out.

"Medic!"

He had treated several more wounds that were not fatal before he heard the feeble cry. A soldier was lying in a pool of red liquid, and he was very, very still. Frank squared his shoulders and hurried over. The man's face was contorted with pain, and there was a hole just below his chest. A bloody, gaping hole. He stared at Frank unblinkingly. Seeing Matthew walk by, looking for wounded, Frank snapped the collapsible stretcher open. "Matthew!"

It took both of them to carry the man, weaving in and out of gullies and fighting. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, and Frank was impatient. If they didn't hurry, this man would die!

Once in the infirmary, Frank struggled to keep calm. There was no way this man could live. "Sir?" The man grasped out. It took Frank a minute to realize the man what addressing him. "Sh, don't try to talk," Frank managed, astonished the man had not went unconscious from the sheer pain. "Sir, am I going to die?" Frank froze in the middle of bandaging the man's chest. What could he say? He patted the man's shoulder. "You're going to do just fine, soldier,"he said, hoping his voice didn't waver. The man smiled and leaned back. "I thank you,sonny." He closed his eyes, and for a second Frank thought he was merely unconscious. But when he felt for a pulse, there was none. Doc emerged then, from the shadowy edge of the tent where he'd been watching. He looked to Frank. "You handled that very well, my boy."

Frank, to his utter horror, found himself choked up, and had to wait a minute before replying , "Thank you, sir." Doc nodded."I'll take over from here. You go back out now." Frank nodded. He worked blindly now, almost oblivious to the fierce battle raging before him. That night, at long last, the battle was over. The Allies had succeeded, but there would be many more battles like this. He made his way to his assigned tent and fell asleep quickly, too tired to even dream.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello, sparklers! :) This chapter is going to have two main focus points: the home front, with Fenton, Laura, and Gertrude; and Joe as a soldier/spy. Th****ere will surprises along the way. Reviewers are the best! The more reviews, the faster I update! **

_**Joe:**_

"Joseph?"

"Yes, sir?"

"We're shipping you out with a regiment headed to London. From the headquarters there, you will be running missions in Italy and France."

Joe nodded excitedly. Ever since that first mission with Amy, he couldn't wait to be shipped out and start running missions full-time. Then the director added something that surprised him.

"You leave tomorrow. Best start packing."

He knew better than to question a superior, especially now that he was in the Army. But, tomorrow?!

"May I tell my family?"

"Only that you're shipping out. All your letters will be inspected, Joseph. Everything is classified."

Joe snapped off a quick salute and went to pack.

* * *

That was how he found himself, exactly one week later, standing on a train platform in London. He was quite shocked at what he saw. Bombed out homes, reduced to rubble and ruin, paths still leading up to buildings that were simply gone. Air raid sirens blew all night long, and German bombers and RAF fighters flew overhead. Looking down at the address he'd been given, he soon found Headquarters. Luckily,it was still intact, blackout curtains in every window. Flashing his I.D., he was led through halls and doorways to a large, imposing office. The door was locked behind him, and the walls were lined with some metal substance.

The man at the desk looked up as he entered. "Hardy?" His British accent was thick.

"That's me," Joe said with a nervous grin. This was the real deal, here! He suddenly felt very small, and aware of the man's eyes boring into him.

"You seem to have amassed a reputation for your detective skill back in the States."

Joe didn't know if that was good or bad. "Uh, yes, sir."

"I presume that you're ready to start working?"

Joe couldn't contain his excitement. He leaned forward slightly. "Oh, yes sir!"

The man chuckled. "Well, you're in luck. We've prepared several missions for you. But first, a word of caution. Your first mission was in the States. That doesn't make it any less important, but if something had went wrong, the results wouldn't be nearly so bad as they would've been here. You were on your home soil. These missions we've prepared for you, well, they're dangerous work. Don't get hurt taking unnecessary risks. Understand?"

"Yes,sir."

"You've heard the expression, "Loose lips sink big ships?"

Joe nodded.

"Let that be your motto. Don't talk too much, to anyone. "

Joe nodded again, and the man smiled. He handed Joe the paperwork. "Here's everything you need to know. You'll be running a mission in Italy next week."

Joe shook his hand gratefully, then headed to his room. Before bed, he decided to start a letter to his family. Taking his pen and paper from a drawer, he wrote, "Dear Mother, Dad, and Aunty..." He paused, surprised at how much he missed them all, even bossy Aunt Gertrude. He wondered what they were doing right now...

* * *

**The home front- the Hardy Family.**

They received his letter "Joe says he's doing well, he misses us, and yes, the food is terrible. He wishes he could tell us more, but the censors cut out any information that could be used by the enemy." Laura Hardy read from the sheet of Joe's sloppy handwriting. Gertrude shocked both Laura and Fenton by dabbling her eyes with a lace hanky.

"I just m-miss them both so much!" Laura hugged her, and they began to get teary.

With a sigh, Fenton glanced out the window. He had had a strange dream, a terrible dream in which Joe was hurt and crying, "Dad! Help me!", and try as he might, Fenton couldn't get to him. Now he wondered if the dream was some sort of premonition. Laura and Gertrude had handled everything remarkably well, after all, knitting blankets for wounded at the Ladies' Aid society and collecting scrap metal, growing the garden and using ration books. They often commented on how strong he was, and he hated to be the one who pulled them down. Secretly, he was very worried about Joe. Joe was the one to rush headlong into things, to blindly attempt heroics. He sighed again.

Fenton knew more than he would ever let on, and he knew Joe was running spy missions. He also knew just how dangerous they were- something Joe himself didn't know.

* * *

**Joe:**

The wind whistled throughout the bare and blackened trees, and moonlight shimmered eerily over battle ravaged fields. Joe pulled his jacket tighter around him. He was starting to realize just how risky this mission behind enemy lines was.

"Stoppen!" The voice was German.

Joe scrambled wildly up the steep embankment and started running, running for his life. His breath came in short gasps, and he felt as if his side would burst. He was certain he could lose the pursuer, but that was before he heard the shots. A gun! They have a gun! He tripped over a root, falling hard. _Come on, Hardy, get up. Of course they have a gun, _he silently berated himself. There was a sudden, sharp pain in his arm, and he realized he'd been shot. Rolling over as quickly as he could into a ditch, he lay deathly still. If he was caught, he'd be tried as a spy or soldier. Soldiers were shot. Spies were tortured for information before they were shot. Either alternative sounded terrible.

His chaser stood motionless in the road, on the spot Joe had just vacated. He was listening for the slightest noise that would alert him to Joe's position, and Joe held himself as still as he could. His arm was throbbing painfully, and Joe could tell by the amount of blood it was not just a flesh wound. The throbbing made his head feel light, and suddenly the air felt thick and it was hard to breathe. The pain washed over him, follows by a wave of inky blackness, sweet and cool, and he was too tired to fight it. He slumped into a heap.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey there, sparklers! How are ya? Please excuse all mistakes, this was written at 1 in the morning. :) Guess what! I got a fanfiction account over at Justin Bieber Fanfiction. Please head over and check out my story here . . ?sid=53216 It's not my typical writing, but it's turning out pretty good, if I do say so myself! XD. It's called It Was a Mistake. Okay, now. On with the story! Hardy Gal, you are awesome. :)**

** What will happen to Joe?!**

The secretary paused before entering the office. She scanned the yellow telegram quickly. "Sir, the headquarters in Italy reports Joseph Hardy did not arrive with the papers. There was a German patrol in the area, and they're afraid he was detained... or worse."

The director of the British Espionage Headquarters thought for a minute. Joe Hardy? That was that polite, eager kid from yesterday. He couldn't help wondering what had went wrong. Oh,well, maybe it was nothing... "Thank you, Molly. We'll wait twenty-four hours before informing the family. Remember,if anyone asks, we just say he's missing in action, not he was running a mission." Molly nodded and left, and the director leaned back in his chair. What had that boy gotten himself into?

* * *

Joe was still lying there the next morning. Luckily, the Germans had not found him, but he had yet to realize that, for he was still unconscious, three hours later. When his eyes finally blinked open, afternoon sunlight blinded them, and he shut them quickly. How long had he been out? He looked at the sun and decided it had been half a day at least. Licking his dry lips, he tried to sit up, and fell backwards. He'd somehow forgotten his arm, and the sudden pain of sitting up combined with that of falling on it were too much. He fought the inky blackness a little longer this time, but again it captured him.

The second time he awoke, he lay very still, not wanting to black out again. It was now dark, and the stars and moon twinkled down on him. His arm felt like it was on fire. Twisting his head sideways so he could study his arm without moving his body, he noted that the bleeding had stopped but the wound was deep, allowing him to see all the way down to a jagged piece of white sticking out of the flesh and tissue. Wait, white? He looked again.

That was a piece of bone. He'd not only been shot, he had a broken arm. He couldn't help it, he let out a string of curse words. Feeling a little remorseful - wondering if you're going to die can do that to you- he looked up quickly. "Sorry, God." He was so tired now, he just wanted to sleep, but he had to stay alert. The pain hammered at him, making feel so weak for giving in. He felt a tear run down his cheek and drop off his nose, and he reached to brush it off angrily. The next morning, he felt so hot, he wondered if he had a fever from the wound. He lay there, unable to move, slipping in an out of wild dreams and hallucinations. At one point he thought he saw his father standing there, and he cried out, then froze, instantly afraid someone nearby had heard him. He was hungry, but that wasn't half so bad as the pain. By the afternoon he was praying wildly. "Help me, Jesus," he whispered. "Because right now, no one else can."

That evening, despite his futile efforts, he fell asleep.

(Hardy home)

Laura Hardy, ironing laundry in the kitchen, heard it first. Someone was knocking on the door. "Fenton, will you answer it?" Gertrude peered out the window. Suddenly she sucked her breath in sharply. "Fenton, Laura, it's an Army truck!" Everyone knew what that meant. No news was good news. If you heard from the Army, it was always bad. Someone was dead or dying. Fenton rose from his chair and made his way to the door almost automatically. He took the paper the soldier handed him and brought it into the kitchen with Laura and Gertrude, where he slowly unfolded it. Scanning the page quickly, phrases jumped out at him. 'Regret to inform you'... 'Joseph Hardy, Private First Class'... 'is missing in action...' Oh, God. No. No, a thousand times no. It couldn't be - and yet it could. Wordlessly he handed the paper to Laura. She read it swiftly, turning to him with wide eyes. "Fenton..." He just nodded and wrapped his arms around her.


	10. Chapter 10

**Eeeee! 40+ reviews. I love you guys! Let's see if this chapter can up that amount to 50, shall we? I hope to have 100 reviews by my birthday, September 13. It's kinda unrealistic but a girl can dream...:)**

Frank stared at the plate of G.I. rations before carrying his food to where Matthew sat. What was that floating in his oatmeal? He didn't really want to know. As soon as he sat, Matthew looked at his bowl.

"What is that?"

"I think it's a raisin?"

Matthew inspected it closely. "No, but it's something..."

Their friendly banter continued but Frank heard someone calling him. "Frank?!" It was Nancy, the pretty Red Cross volunteer from the ship. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled into bun, and her uniform was spotless. She looked different, but a good different...Frank was interrupted from his reverie by her smile.

"Frank, I'm assigned to assist you today! Isn't that great?"

Frank blushed. "Yes." Matthew smirked and kicked him under the table.

As soon as everyone was assembled, the announcements began. They were to prepare for another battle, much the same as they had yesterday. Groans rang out the men. That battle had been utter hell. Complete chaos. Well, at least now some of them would know what they were doing.

He looked across the table at Nancy. "Well, we'd better get ready . We'll need to help roll bandages and prepare medicines."

As they cut strips of bandages from sturdy white cloth, they had a chance to talk. "So, why are you a a Red Cross volunteer?" he asked casually.

"Well, I wanted to join the W.A.S.P s - that's the women's flying program the air force offers- but my mother died when I was very young, and my dad didn't want me doing something that dangerous. So, then tried to convince him to let me do this, but he was a bit overprotective. My Aunt Eloise had to drive down from New York and help me convince him! So, what about you? Do you have any family?"

"Yeah. My Mom, Laura Hardy, and my dad, Fenton Hardy, plus my aunt Gertrude and my younger brother Joe. He's in the army, too."

"Fenton Hardy, the detective?" She cut another strip of bandage and looked sideways up at him.

"Yeah. That's how I got interested in detective work."

She gave a lilting, musical laugh. "I understand! My dad's a lawyer, and a lot of his cases involve the need for a little detecting here and there."

Across the room, other groups were sorting medicines and mixing powders. Frank smiled at Matthew. He couldn't believe he was actually taking to a girl, and a pretty one at that, without saying something stupid.

Thomas suddenly appeared in the doorway. "Frank, Sergeant said to give this to you." He jammed his hands in his pockets. "It don't look too good. I'm awfully sorry, buddy."

Frank took thin telegram curiously, eyes scanning it quickly. He suddenly felt dizzy and sick, like he was going to vomit but a million times worse. Matthew, Thomas, and Nancy gathered around him .

"What is it?" Nancy asked gently.

"It's my brother Joe," Frank said with a strange, deadly calm. "He's missing in action."

"Oh, Frank! I'm so sorry!"

There was no time to reflect on the sad news, for they heard shots and yelling from outside. Matthew cursed. "Why are the medics always the last to know? " without hesitation, he slung his pack over his shoulder and raced out the doorway of the infirmary. Frank loaded his pack, and prepared to head out as well, but his hands shook as he loaded the medicines and bandages into the compartments. _Joe...Quit that, Hardy, _he ordered himself sternly. There would be time for that later. Now, be motioned to Nancy. "Let's go. You ready?!"

She nodded, and they entered the fray.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi again, sparklers! I love you all so much! Thank you for reading, reviewing, following, favorite-ing... asdfghjkl I can't describe how happy I am to have you guys reading my fanfic! xoxo! Shout outs to Foxy121, my long lost twin =), Hardy Gal(I hope you had a great trip)and Hibernia12,(the loyalest reviewer ever!)**

**THIS CHAPTER IS FOR ALL THE CHET FANS!**

Sergeant Chet Morton listened carefully as his leader detailed instructions. They were to march through this ditch and up into the forest beyond, hacking their way through, where they would meet with another American regiment. He wondered how Frank, Joe, Biff, Phil, and Tony were doing. He hoped they were all safe.

It really was amazing, how in the course of a year and a half he was now a soldier, halfway across the world in Italy. Why, he'd even made Sergeant, following a tense battle in France. He still couldn't believe that it was all true. Certainly, he had been lucky...His thoughts were interrupted by a shout.

"Hey! There's a corpse in this ditch, and it's in a uniform like ours!"

Within minutes, they were crowded around. The soldier wore an American uniform, and the bars indicated he was a Private First Class. He was filthy- he even had dirt in his blond crew cut, and his arm was a bloody, twisted mess. It looked like he'd been shot, and the wound had been infected. One of the medics from their company scrambled down into the mud to examine him. He suddenly straightened.

"Lieutenant, Sergeant, come here! He's got a pulse! The kid's not dead, just unconscious. Looks like he got shot and took a real beatin'."

As he turned the soldier to look at his arm, his name badge caught Chet's eye.

The badge read 'Hardy'.

He hurried over. Blonde crewcut, a tall, slim build... it couldn't be Joe. Why would he be out here, alone? Chet took a closer look.

It was Joe.

"Lieutenant Read? This soldier, I know him! This is one of my friends from home, Joe Hardy!"

The older man nodded and motioned for Chet to come closer to him so they wouldn't be overheard. "Do you have any idea why he'd be out here, alone?"

Chet considered this. "No...but, wait! What if he was running spy missions? He was always very interested in detective work- and very good at it, too."

Lieutenant Read nodded. "Hmm... this is a very interesting development. Chet?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Don't speak to anyone of this. I'll get in touch with the espionage department."

"Alright."

"Good. Instruct the medics to bring him to the infirmary and care for him there, if they haven't already. I'm going to talk to headquarters at once."

"Yes sir."

Chet relayed the instructions and then headed back to Lieutenant Read. "They're treating him in the infirmary, sir. Any news from HQ?"

"Yes. Apparently he was on a mission and met with foul play."

"So- he is a spy?"

"Chet, no one knows, not even his family. He's been missing for three days now, and was reported missing in action. They can't and won't tell his family anything about what he's doing. However, we can give them the happy news that he's alive. We're supposed to care for him, and the British HQ are sending someone out to bring him back."

"Britain? We're in Italy!"

"Exactly. The espionage headquarters in London are sending spies all over Europe. All the dots connect, but we can't tell anyone,all right? For now, let's just say you have a very brave friend."

Chet smiled a little. "Alright. Can I see him now?"

"By all means. But remember, speak of this to no one."

Chet nodded and practically ran out the door and to the medic's tent.

Joe was propped up against a pillow on a rather uncomfortable looking, rickety arm was being cleaned and examined by the medics and a nurse, but when he saw Chet, he brightened.

"Chet! Chet Morton!"

One of the medics playfully admonished, "Don't you mean Sergeant Morton?" Joe nearly fell off the cot. Chet grinned. "Hey, Joe."

Joe stared at him. "Hey yourself, Sergeant Morton!"

They both laughed before launching into a flurry of conversation. Finally, Chet asked,"So, what happened to the arm?"

"Got shot, I guess. How long was I out?"

One of the medics answered, "Apparently three days. You're awful lucky it wasn't longer. Another day or two, the arm would be so infected, you'd be running the losing it. Even now, you'd better rake it easy. In fact, I'd recommend seeing a doctor back in the States or London, whichever one is closer to your regiment. Say, what happened? Why were you alone out there?"

"Ah..."

Joe rubbed his good hand tiredly over his face. Finally he said, "Look, guys. I'm awfully sorry, but it's confidential. But I can assure you that it was terribly exciting."

They both nodded. Then Joe asked, "Did my family know I was hurt?" Chet nodded.

"Apparently, you were reported missing in action."

Joe groaned. "Aunty's gonna have my head for worrying them so much."

Chet bobbed his head. "They even sent a message to Frank, I believe."

"Well, they're certainly very efficient at spreading bad news."

Joe appeared tired, and Chet decided to cut the visit short.

"See you soon, buddy."

"You too, Chet! Great to see you!"

Joe was already sleeping when Chet left.


	12. Chapter 12

**Hiya, sparklers! I'm thinking about making this into a series,with Frank, Joe, and the rest of their crew in different historical situations. You know, on the ****_Titanic, _****during the American Revolution,etc. And I'd let people like you write in with ideas for different time periods. Then I'd pick one or two. What do you think? Let me know! Oh, and if you're wondering how long ****_Hardys at War _****is going to be, I'm going to make it right at 20 chapters...I think. We'll see. Thank you thank you thank you for 50 reviews! Love you so much! Now back to the story. Onward!**

"Frank!" Doc was waving his arm wildly and clutching a clipboard. "Frank!" Frank looked up tiredly. Together with Nancy, he'd treated at least 10 soldiers so far. He'd lost count,working swiftly and mechanically. Now he looked up from his patient's cot in the infirmary, brushing grime and filth off his sweat-stained uniform. Blinking rapidly, he tried to adjust his eyes to the sudden light of the open tent flap.

"Yes sir?"

Doc beamed. "I have great news, my boy! Your brother's just fine!" Frank nearly dropped the IV bag he'd been carrying.

"Really?! Joe, you mean he's alright?!"

Doc nodded and grinned. "Telegram from your parents." He handed it to Frank and hastened back to his patients. Frank finished attaching the IV and admonished the man to rest, deciding to head back out. It wouldn't be fair to read his telegram now, with Nancy still working and the battle still raging all around. No, he had no intention of stopping

But as he headed back omto the battlefield,the phrase hummed in his mind like a broken record,repeating itself. Joe's safe, Joe's safe.

He headed back out, helping Nancy carry several more patients to safety. He marveled at the no-nonsense way Nancy handled the patient's inquiries , the way she soothed the dazed, the... But he couldn't stand there gaping. There was a battle to be won, after all.

"Medic!"

He turned quickly, scanning the ground. Ears straining, he heard it again, fainter, to his left. He hurried over, finding a soldier about his age with a bloody leg.

Draping the man's arm around his shoulder, he helped him to the infirmary, cutting the pants leg off and, noting a thin line of blood, one that ran in little beads down from a small hole, he nodded. Shrapnel. Locating a piece of what looked like aluminum foil protruding from the wound, he assessed the situation. Then he sighed in relief. It wasn't a bad wound. Telling the boy to hold still, it would only take a minute, he pinched the foil like substance with tweezers, succeeding in moving a piece of shrapnel. "Sir," he began, squinting. It was impossible to see the boy's face under his thick layer of dirt and grime. "You're going to be fine, but you need to rest, alright? Don't want to risk it getting infected. It may seem small, but it could become a lot worse. Shrapnel can be tricky. Understand?"

"Sure, Frank," the boy said, and smiled.

Frank stared at him, spluttering. "But-how-when..."

It was Phil Cohen.


	13. Chapter 13

**Yo, Sparklers! What's up? Thanks for 54 awesome reviews! I love each and every one of you! *blows kiss* Kay. This chapter is about Fenton/Gertrude/Laura. Towards the end of this chapter, I used a da*n for authenticity,so be forewarned. Nothing bad. HISTORICAL NOTE: Due to the communist tensions building during WW II, the Cold War and the KGB would emerge, and accusing someone of aiding the 'reds' was one of the worst things you could do. Remember Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull? The background for all that was laid in WWII. Alright, to the chapter!**

Gertrude Hardy entered the kitchen with a spotted handkerchief wrapped around her head as a turban. It had been a week since they'd learned Joe was safe, a week in which Aunt Gertrude had made up her mind. With a contented sigh at having made the right decision, she pushed the swinging door back and found herself facing Fenton and Laura's shocked expressions.

"I," she announced, "am going to war. I will be working in a factory making plane propellers, starting tomorrow. I intend to become a Rosie the Riveteer." If Gertrude had announced her intent to drown herself in Bayport Bay, Laura and Fenton might've been less surprised.

Gertrude wore a blue mechanic' s uniform that was much too big, not to mention her turban. "All over the nation, women are needed to make planes, bullets, guns, jeeps... anything for the war effort. President Roosevelt says he needs more l factory workers- so he can draft the remaining men-, and I am answering his call." She lifted her chin, as if daring Fenton and Laura to question her, to object.

"Well, now, Gertrude, that's very nice of you." Fenton said. "I salute your honorable decision." With a mock salute,he disappeared into his office, faint smile twitching on his lips.

Let Laura handle this one.

Picking up the desk telephone then, he made sure his door was firmly shut. If Gertrude wanted to work in factories, good for her! It was an excellent thing to support the war effort. But now, he had an enormous problem, a conundrum on his hands. Finally, he spun the dial of the phone, spinning the number he now knew so well, one he'd never dreamed of calling until last week. A secretary's voice answered, "War Office. May I ask who's calling?"

"Fenton Hardy, private investigator and former member of the NYPD. I have an appointment with Gen-"

"Oh, yes, yes sir, just a minute, if you will."

"Of course."

He waited until he heard the general's voice. "Fenton?"

"Yes. Good to hear from you, Bob."

"You too Fenton, you too. Haven't seen you in quite a while. How's the family? Frank and Joe in uniform? "

"Yes, and they're all doing well."

"Good, good! Now, Fenton, you know why the Army is interested in you?"

Fenton sighed tiredly. "Remind me."

"Well, you've got the credentials, and yet you're unobtrusive. You're well known, but you're not famous."

"Hmph!"

"Now, Fenton, I didn't mean you weren't respected. Anyways, what I mean is, the Nazi's don't know who you are. Now,we've got a lot of scientists and respected men working here, men recommended by Stalin himself. But-"

Fenton ran his hand over the intricate wood carvings on the antique desk. "You're seeing blasted Nazi spies and Commies everywhere you look, and you want me to come prove it."

"We-ell, not exactly like that-"

"Yes, exactly like that!"

"Dammit, Fenton, do we have to beg? Look, just get up here, all right? We need you."

Fenton propped his feet on the desk and leaned back in his swivel chair. "It's a gallant idea, Bob, but accusing good men of being Communist threats and Nazi spies is not, and I mean NOT , something I will do readily. Just think of the pandemonium one false accusation would cause."

"Hardy,come on. You already know everything going on up here- I'll never know how, but you _know,_no use denying it. Fenton, your government needs you!"

"Oh, save it. You don't need me, or at least not as desperately as you put , suppose I found out your top man was a spy. I was very sure, and you try him as a traitor. But, what if after the war, you learned he was a double agent- telling the Nazi's he was gathering information for them when he was really feeding them false papers and stealing info FROM them. No, Bob, I won't have it."

"Fenton."

"Bob."

"Fenton, we've been friends for years. I'm not going to _want _to tell the government you refuse to aid war work, but..."

Fenton resisted screaming expletives into the phone. "Listen to me, Bob. I will not come up there to blame anyone _you _think is an enemy threat. Anyone I _know i_s a communist or a Nazi, I will inform you. You can do all the blustering and arresting then. I won't investigate any one you suspect, or, for that matter, anyone else's suspicions. I will base my work on my moral standards and the information I've discovered. If I need the Army, or the Navy, or the Marines, or anyone else, I will let them know. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Fenton."

"Fine. I'm taking the eight o'clock train. You can pick me up."

Fenton said goodbye, then laced his fingers tightly together and stared out the window. He sighed then, wryly reflecting that Aunt Gertrude wasn't the only one making sacrifices for the greater good. He then flipped through the mail. Frank and Joe had gotten into the unnerving habit of sending separate letters, ones adressed to Fenton alone, and ones addressed to the whole family. The family ones were full of funny stories and always sounded cheerful. The ones to Fenton were real. They were not complaining, they were simply the facts - often gory, but facts, and questions. The censors, cutting out vital information in case enemies read the letters, must've had field days with the boy's letters. Fenton found the best ones were stories which, though often humorous, were deemed inappropriate for the ladies by Frank and Joe, so they opted to send them separately.

He thought of how surprised they all would be, when, once the war was over, to learn what each had done. Joe, with his missions, he, with his work for the department, Gertrude now, Frank, with his stories from the battlefield... He smiled. The day they won the war would be a wonderful day. They would win. He was sure of it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hiya, Sparklers! Long time no see, huh? Sorry 'bout that. I had a great birthday but I've been really, really busy. But today I've got a nice update for ya! This chapter is Joe centered. DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW! :D Love you guys!**

"Well, Private Hardy," the doctor paused in his examination of Joe, pushed his glasses up, and scrutinized Joe, making him squirm a bit, "I'm sending you to a hospital in London for further examination and possible surgery. It's a very severe break, and it's been infected. You're running the risk of losing it."

Joe's eyes widened a little, and he sucked his breath in sharply. Losing his arm? How would he fire a gun, or chase and tackle a criminal? No, he couldn't! But he said simply, "Yes, sir."

"Good. I know you're anxious to get back to the front, but this ought to take a month or two to recover from, especially if you have to have surgery, which I think you will."

Chet, along with Joe's new medic friends,had recruited a medic doctor to inspect Joe's swollen, twisted arm, and the verdict was not good. Now Chet -no, Sergeant Morton- poked his head in the infirmary flap.

"How's it going, Doctor?"

"I'm afraid he's going to have to go to the bigger Soldier's Hospital in London. He may lose the arm. Those days he spent unconscious allowed the bullet to work it's way in."

Chet looked at Joe. The slightly younger boy looked dazed,like a bird who has flown into a window and must lie vulnerable on the ground before it can get back up and fly. Chet sighed. Joe, normally active and alert, the one who was always cheerful, looked suddenly terrified, and Chet knew that this must be hard for the boisterous young Hardy. It was a daunting prospect- the idea of life without an arm. Joe's face changed then, and the frightened expression was gone so suddenly Chet wondered if he'd imagined it.

Joe appeared to be making up his mind about something, and he straightened as best he could without moving his arm. "I won't lose it. I'll have the surgery, and I'll get better. And then I'll come back and help whip the Nazis who gave me this _most impressive_ injury."

Chet grinned. _This _was the Joe Hardy he knew. But then his gaze fell to Joe's arm, red, bent at odd angles, and swollen enormously, and he sombered. All the brave talk and bravado in the world couldn't get Joe out of this situation. His reverie was abruptly interrupted by Joe asking weakly, "Hey, Doc?"

They both turned to face the patient.

"Don't tell my family about this, alright?"

The doctor spluttered. "But, my boy, don't you want them to know-"

"No! Well, I mean, when I was hurt, I was reported M.I.A. And... I don't want my mother and Aunty worrying about me like I know they did then. I don't think even Dad could prevent them from finding some way to get to London when I have my surgery."

Chet couldn't help nodding in agreement. He could almost picture Gertrude Hardy hijacking an Air Force flight and piloting the plane herself to London, a frantic Laura Hardy in the background. He nearly laughed aloud before remembering the gravity of the situation.

* * *

And that was how Joe found himself in the operating room at the London hospital a few days later, under anesthesia and barely aware of what was going on. He'd protested that he didn't need the anesthesia, he'd be fine, but they'd hooked him up anyway, promising a lighter dose than usual, and now he listened to the snippets of conversation as the operating room staff discussed his arm. Joe wanted to be aware of if he could keep his arm or not! He knew they'd cut his arm open and were examining the cracked,twisted, and shattered bone. Words drifted around him, and even in his groggy state he understood them, though they sounded far away.

_"More morphine..."_

_"It looks awfully bad..."_

_"We're going to have to amputate..."_

"No, No, NO!" He screamed wildly, trying to thrash his free arm but realizing it was strapped down. "I'll get better, I promise! I'll do anything! I can't lose my arm! I can't!"

Someone held him down and he heard a voice say firmly, "Morphine."

The morphine-soaked cloth was pressed to his face, and the world went to a dizzying black.


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry to keep y'all in suspense! Review, please! More reviews=more updates**!

Joe's eyelids flicked open, and he blinked dizzily, eyes straining to focus. White walls, a white bed... a hospital. Why was he in a hospital?! Then he remembered-the hurried, hushed voices, the anesthesia, the doctor- his arm! He gasped. Almost afraid to look, he slid his hand under the sheets and felt a hard white cast from his shoulder. Was his arm under there? If it was, it was too numb to tell.

He ran his good arm and fingers as quickly as he could down the cast, feeling nervously. Finally he gave up and pulled all the sheets off, closing his eyes and mentally steeling himself to see a bandaged stump. He was wheezing heavily, no doubt a result of the damp nights spent unconscious. _Just breathe, Hardy._ Then he opened his blue-gray eyes.

And...

He saw his arm. A jagged scar ran diagonally across it, from the elbow to the wrist, and stitches jutted out like a thin black ribbon, too many to count. But it was his arm, whole! He wiggled his fingers gingerly and almost laughed in relief. He didn't know what had made the doctors change their mind about amputation, but he was certainly glad. He was suddenly at a loss for words, overwhelmingly thankful. He ran his good hand over his arm again, feeling the bumpy ridges.

_Thank you, God!_

Almost ecstatic, he beamed brightly at the elderly nurse who'd brought him breakfast, offering her a cheery "Good Morning, ma'am!" She sat his tray down and watched to make sure he could eat with his good arm before bustling quickly out, and he heard her muttering darkly in the hall that the 'Yank must be still feeling the effects of the morphine!'.

Yank? That was right, he was in London, right back where he'd started. He'd nearly forgotten. Looking around the room, he saw a curtain halfway pulled on the other side of the room. Wondering if there was a patient behind it, he called tentatively, "Hello?"

"Hullo, lad! Awful glad for some company, I am! You're American, I take it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Oh, no need for formalities, lad. I'm George Fisher."

"Joe Hardy. Pleased to meet you."

Their visit was cut short by the doctor's impressive entrance, white coat swirling about him. Joe wondered if he enjoyed the aura he created a little too much.

"Well, Joseph. I see you've noticed your arm?"

"Oh, yes, sir. I thought-I thought I was going to lose it, and..."

The doctor smiled grimly. "Put up a good fight, didn't you? Had to give you an extra large dose of morphine, too, or you've probably bolted off the operating room table."

Joe blushed and grinned crookedly. "I'm sorry..."

The doctor patted his shoulder. "It's alright."

"Thanks. When can I go back?"

"Good Lord, man! You'll need at least two weeks to recover fully!"

An orderly appeared in the doorway. "Someone here to see you, Mr. Hardy."

The director of London's Espionage Headquarters appeared in the doorway. The doctor looked at him curiously as he went out. Joe blinked. This was a surprise!

"Glad to see you're alright, Joseph! Thought I'd stop by and tell you the whole of headquarters was abuzz with worry. You've even got a nickname, you know."

Joe beamed. What would it be? Probably something dashing and handsome...

"They all asked, what happened to that polite kid...

That polite kid? Joe winced.

Talk turned to missions, and the director lowered his voice and handed Joe papers. I'd like to tell you what happened, but it's confidential.

Next chapter= Frank, Nancy, and much more action. This chapter was a bit dull. I'm sorry. Review?


	16. Chapter 16

**Hi, my darling sparklers! So, someone is going to be killed off. **** It is a war, after all.**** BUT...**You get to pick who. Because I would feel terrible trying to decide on my own. I'm leaning towards Tony or Biff. Choose a name from below and leave the name in your review.

**Options:**

**Chet**

**Biff**

**Phil**

**Tony**

**Okay, now pick one! **

**This chapter is Frank/Nancy. It's Autumn 1943.**

* * *

Frank blinked.

"Phil? Phil Cohen, is that you?!"

Phil grinned weakly. "Long time no see, huh?"

"Well, yeah. I didn't know you'd enlisted!"

As he spoke, Frank was cleaning Phil's wound. Phil gave a grim laugh. "Mother said she absolutely refused to let me enlist. So," he shrugged,"I ran away. What about you?"

Frank pretended to cluck his tounge. "It was easy for me, since I'm 18. But it took some convincing on Joe's part to get Aunty and Mother to let him. But Dad signed for him. It wasn't near as exciting as your story."

Phil rubbed the back of his neck and watched Frank pour antiseptic on a swab. "When I asked mom to sign for me, she said absolutely not. I told her I could lie about my age, and...She told me if I got hurt, it'd be my own foolish fault. I gotta say, when that bullet hit, I thought, oh, Lord, she's right."

They both chuckled, then Frank slung his pack over his shoulder again. "Well, I'd better head back out. If you need anything, ask Nancy, the Red Cross volunteer. "

Something about the way he said it made Phil looked at Frank. "Is she pretty?"

Frank blushed. "Yeah."

As he headed back out, he heard Phil softly chanting, "Frank's got a cruuuush..."

He couldn't help smiling. It was almost like old times, and how ironic that they'd meet again, here. Oh, well, back to work. People needed his help out there. He lifted the flap and stepped out, only to collide into Nancy, who was crying. He took her elbow and helped her up. "Nancy, what's wrong?"

He was worried. Nancy was one of the strong workers, the one they called for help when the others felt queasy. Surely something was wrong. She sniffled. "Oh, Frank. That boy we brought in earlier?"

He remembered bringing someone in with Thomas. "Oh, yes."

"He died."

"Oh?" Of course, it was terrible, but he'd seen worse,as had Nancy. What was going on?

"That was my friend Bess Marvin' s little brother. He ran away from home, and... how am I going to tell Bess and Mr. and Mrs. Marvin?"

Frank remembered how he'd joked with Phil about running away, and he suddenly felt terrible. Life was such a fragile thing, and working out here, you got used to death quickly. They said working out here in the trenches did that to you. How far he'd come from that awful day when he lost his first patient. But when it was someone you knew, it got personal. Nancy was talking again.

"I always liked going to their house because they were a family, and that was something I didn't have, you know? They always seemed together somehow, even when they were fighting."

Frank handed her a handkerchief, and she accepted it gratefully, blowing her nose loudly. Then she squared her shoulders. "Come on, let's get back to work."

He eyed her carefully. "Are you sure?"

"Uh huh." As he turned to leave, she clutched at his arm. "Frank?"

"Yes?" He looked down at her, blue eyes softening.

She was clinging to him, looking up at him from brown eyes that were now devoid of tears, and she smiled.

"Thanks, Frank. I-I'm really glad you're here."

"Nancy-"

She leaned in, and he did too, and he suddenly realized they were kissing.

_Kissing!_

She broke off quickly, beaming at him before scurrying off to attend to patients.

He paused for a minute, stroking his chin carefully. "Well, whaddya know," he said finally before venturing back into the chaotic battle.

* * *

All the battles were the same, really, for all the complicated talk and planning. They were wild and desperate and hardly ever strategic, but somehow the Allies pulled it off. They always did. Talk was that they were almost 'done' here in Italy, whatever that meant, and would soon be expanding to the Pacific.

Someone called "Medic," and his reverie snapped.

He worked feverishly until the battle' s end.

**So, what do you think? Frank...kissed a girl...and he liked it, the taste of her cherry chapstick... it felt so wrong, it felt so right...Okay, I'll stop now. Don't forget to REVIEW! Not updating till I get at least five reviews... ;) Have an amazing day! God Bless!**


	17. Chapter 17

**So, I'm definitely not killing Chet, I got reviews pleading for his safety. Plus, I kinda like the big guy. :) But everyone else might not be as safe... we'll see.**

**I highly recommend you watch America, The Story of Us episode six. It is a great show on World War Two and the events leading up to it. This chapter is Joe centered!**

**This takes place in the hospital room when the Espionage director came to visit Joe.**

The director lowered his voice and gestured at the curtain on the other side of the room.

"Can we talk freely?"

"There's a man over there."

Just then, however, a nurse arrived to wheel George somewhere, and when they had gone, the director shut the door.

"I have good news. Due to your excellent reputation from Amy Pack, you've been chosen-"

_Chosen? _Joe felt pleasantly tingly and flattered. _They want_ **me**? But at the same time, he felt a twinge of anxiousness.

"Chosen for what, sir?"

The director scooted his uncomfortable visitor's chair even closer to Joe's bedside and whispered.

"Operation Overlord."

Joe looked blank.

"It's huge lad, huge! We've got Allied men all over Britain and America working in it. But the important thing is, you're going as both a soldier AND a spy. You're helping the diversions team."

"Alright. But if you don't mind me asking, Where are we fighting? Why is it an undercover operation, with all the code names? And what's a diversions team?"

The director chuckled. He handed a bulging folder to the boy, ruffled Joe's hair, and said,

"You should have plenty of time to read, while you're in here. Burn the papers when you're done."

Well, this was sudden. He blinked.

"Uh,yes, sir. And thank you for coming to see me."

"You're very welcome."

He walked briskly away, leaving Joe to puzzle over the papers.

* * *

Two hours later, when a pretty blond nurse brought him lunch, his head was swimming. The papers gave only the necessary information, but, what a plan.

They were going to take back France.

And he was going to help.

He really couldn't believe that he was allowed to help with something this important. The director seemed to have taken a liking to him, and Amy's recommendation had certainly helped. Flipping through the papers, he scanned everything again. The diversions team was responsible for making Germany believe the Allies would be anywhere but Normandy on June 6 of next year. And it was November now!

Diversions...translated plainly, that was dropping sheets of tinfoil from planes at random locations behind enemy lines (they looked like bombs when shown on radar); leaving 'top-secret' papers (filled with false information) laying around where Axis spies could find them, and many other deceptive techniques. _His_ job was acting like a terrible spy,feeding (false) paperwork to the Axis powers and leaving (fake) evidence all over the place, causing the Nazi's to believe they were going to storm Normandy in the fall, and come from inland.

That meant he was a double agent. He hadn't considered that before. What was he supposed to do, pick up the phone and call Hitler?

"Hey, buddy! Got some info for you and your boys!"

My God, he was going to have to make the Nazi's believe he was on their side. And how on earth could he do that? He looked at his bandaged arm. Well, he had plenty of time to figure it out. This was going to be fun.


	18. Chapter 18

**I know I said this may be 20 chapters, but it may be closer to 20+. :D**

**Hardy Gal, I miss you. :(**

**Foxy 121, much love! You're amazing,****girl!**

**Hibernia12 has a new story, check it out!**

**Catlover1033, your reviews and your stories are epic. You are so cool!**

**Thanks to all the new followers! Sparklers rock! We're up to 70+ reviews!**

**I love all my reviewers. Please, take time to review and make my day! Submit any ideas you have, I may use them! If I do, I'll give you credit!**

Joe sat in the preparation meeting, listening intently.

"Alright, Joseph. You're playing the part of a disgruntled employee, to put it simply. You're a spy for the U.S. Army, fed up with the way they handle things, and so you're feeding the Nazi's lots of important information because you're young and confused."

Here the director grinned at Joe and added hastily, ", or so they think."

"At first, they will just use you for information. Once you establish a trust, you'll find they'll tell you all sorts of things, alright? Now, we've received word that a Nazi supporters meeting is being held here in London, ran by British Nazi sympathizers. We'll drop you off in three hours. You'd better prepare. Remember, be inconspicuous."

"Okay."Joe sounded much more confident than he felt. They were trusting him to do this. What if he failed? He had been incredibly lucky during his previous brush with death, but now?He'd only been discharged from the hospital a few days away, and now was gearing up to assume is role as Joe Hardy, Nazi.

In typical Joe Hardy fashion,however, he shrugged his shoulders. How hard could this be?

* * *

"Good Luck, mate!"

Joe shook hands with the Ml5 man who'd dropped him off and took the tiny transistor radio/recorder handed to him. Stuffing it into his shirt pocket after hitting the record button, he hopped out. Then he looked up at the unassuming warehouse. He went over his prepared role in his head. Catching a quick glimpse of himself in a window, he grinned, reassuring himself. Opening the door, he saw a man sitting behind a desk under a sign that read, "Business Office".

The man arched an eyebrow. "Can I help you?"

His eyes ran over Joe, and he remembered his plan. He'd went over it all last night, and he was sure it would work...He hoped.

_Act nervous._

Shifting from one foot to another, Joe asked in a whisper,"Is this where the...meeting... is held?"

There was a flicker of recognition is the man's eyes that Joe's detective instincts noted, but the man disguised it quickly.

"What meeting? Say, you're not from here, are you? You talk like a Yank."

This was it, the critical moment. Could he play the part well enough?

"I am. In fact, I'm a spy for the US, stationed in London. But it's awful boring."

He let out a big sigh, pretending look embarrassed.

"It's wrong to say this, 'cause it's confidential, but they don't let us younger spies do nothing!"

Aunt Gertrude would've had a fit over the incorrect grammar, but he was playing the part of a confused teenager very well, and if that meant peppering his speech with double negatives, so be it!

"We just sit around and run paperwork. That's the only fun part- they let us read the papers to file 'em, and boy, there's some real good stuff on 'em!"

The man was leaning forward now, and, Joe observed with satisfaction, was buying his every word. Pausing dramatically and lowering his voice, he said,

"To tell you the truth, mister, I joined 'cause I thought it'd be awful exciting. But it's not, not at all. I heard you let younger agents do all sorts of keen stuff, so I dropped by If you've got a need for me, I'll give you all sorts of nifty information! We could trade!"

"How did you learn of this meeting?"

"I get around," Joe responded airily.

"What makes you so sure it's here? This is an office."

Now was the time to pull out all the stops, and Joe stood up impressively.

"Really? It seems more like a front to me. Why isn't the telephone connected? There's no cord. Why is there no lightbulb in that lamp? Your desk is dusty except for where you've leaned on it. There's nothing in the share house. This is a front for your little club, not a warehouse office. And I want to join."

He sat up straighter and forced himself to look eager. "See? I know my stuff. But the US people don't see that. The think I'm just a kid. I can get you whatever you want to know, honest! Lots of those papers have good stuff on 'em."

Inwardly, he chuckled, wondering how rich he'd be if he had a dollar for every time his character had said "stuff".

The man at the desk regarded him with an odd mixture of shock and cunning. Joe could tell the man though Joe was something of a street performer- he could recite endless facts but had no idea the meaning or context of them. If the man would believe this, think that Joe was a harmless farm boy with a big ego, then maybe they would use him. And then he could pick up information.

Finally the man spoke.

"You're in, lad. Come with me."

Joe followed him to a conference room with a tiny hole bored in the wall, and Joe realized that the people in the conference room could hear everything said in the office. He'd been right. It WAS a front. Now he studied the British Nazi's with disgust. Traitors, the whole lot, willing to sell their soul to the devil for cash.

The man he'd met outside was speaking.

"Meet our new recruit."

Before he knew it, he'd been given the third degree and lied an answer to every question, and was taking some sort of oath filled with words about Aryans and master race, elimination of the others, and supreme dedication to Hitler. Their was an evil that was there, so prevalent and real it made the air feel thick.

"Do you take this oath to be true? Raise your hand in the Hitler Salute."

As everyone raised their right hand, Joe did too...

But he crossed his left hand' s fingers tightly and stuck out his tongue at a portrait of Hitler when no one was looking.


	19. Chapter 19

**Let's see if we can make it to 80 reviews! This story has nearly 4,000 views. Thank you guys so much! I love you all. Virtual hugs! This chapter is Frank and Nancy .**

**NancyAustin, I want Nancy to have more action too, and I'm going to find a way for that to happen!**

Frank pulled his jacket up tighter around him and trudged along between Matthew and Thomas. It was Oct 31, Halloween back home. After days of marching through Italian countryside, they were going to attempt to take back Rome. But for now, they were hindered by heavy rains and deep mud.

"Darn boots," muttered Matthew as the mud made a sort of sucking sound and his foot slipped out of his too-big shoe, leaving it stuck in the muck.

Thomas grinned. "Well, y'know what they say; 'If the shoe fits, it's not the one the Army issued ya!"

There was a round of knowing laughter from the other soldiers and medics around.

The Red Cross volunteers and nurses followed a little behind them. It was not deemed entirely proper for the young ladies to march with the battle weary men. However, Thomas's nurse beau and Nancy always found a way to walk with Thomas and Frank.

Frank felt a movement behind him, and, turning, he saw Nancy.

"Frank, we had a conference today."

"Oh? Are you enlightened?"

She didn't smile. "Frank, I'm being sent to North Africa, along with several other girls."

He grabbed her wrists and stared into her eyes. He wanted to cry out, to scream with all the desperation of Scarlett O'hara being left by Rhett, 'What shall I do, where shall I go?'

Instead he let her arms drop,bit his lip, and tried to organize his thoughts as the walked side by side.

She looked at him. "You could apply to go too, you know. The fighting isn't as bad over there- yet. They need us to set up relief stations."

"No. I'm needed here."

The sudden sharpness of his words didn't startle her, she'd learned by now that that was simply his way when faced with a daunting situation. She forced a grin.

"It'll be an adventure."

He closed his eyes and stood there in the drizzling rain, and she stood beside him for a few seconds, ignoring the soldiers marching past.

He opened his eyes and swallowed. "When do you go?"

She sighed and placed a slender hand on his arm. "Tomorrow."

"My God." He said something else, too, something that would be spelled in asterisks, and she reprimanded him.

"Frank! Don't swear. It's blasphemous."

He looked over at her. "Sorry. It's just-" His voice trailed away and he started walking again, scattering pebbles with his boots.

She had to struggle to keep up with the strides his long legs were making.

"I'll miss you, Frank. I'll pray for you every day."

"Thank you, Nancy. I...I'll miss you too."

A tear slid down her cheek, and she was glad for the rain. Hoping Frank couldn't see her crying, she turned away and fiddled with her hair.

He noticed anyway.

Someone called her, and she turned to Frank quickly.

"I guess maybe this is goodbye."

"Nancy, I..."

She waited patiently as he groped for the right words, but he said quickly and simply,

"I think I love you, Nancy."

She squeezed his hand.

"I love you too , Frank. Goodbye, then."

He kissed her gently. It was unlike the other kiss they'd shared- it was had been light and awkward. This one seemed to symbolize an agreement, a promise to wait for each other.


	20. Chapter 20

Hey guys. Y'all may not being seeing me for a few weeks. I betrayed my parent's trust by playing games on my Kindle and writing this fanfic when I was supposed to be asleep. So, I'm banned from my Kindle/computer, and rightly so.

Sooo, I love you all very very much, appreciate your support of this story, and hope to see you again soon!

_Ephesians 6:1_

_Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right._


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